Sister City
Boma
The blood of my ancestorsFlows shamefully through my veinsThey would cut out my tongueIf they heard the things I singI have a markerAnd a mind to vandalizeLike I did to my deskWhen I was fiveWhat's changed since thenIs a deep appreciation For the finer things This side of martyrdomI set a second timer on the alarm clockI've got a busy day tomorrowThat I can't afford to missCountless counter-culture costumesI've got to see which one will fitI've got half a mind to sleep till 3And opt out of opportunitySo fuck itIt's not a crimeBut I think it should beThen again there's always somethingLetras de cancionesTo be doneAnd boys, no excuse me menWith a mythology of justificationI may stretch my wordsBut you stretch the truthSo hammer out the meaningIn a solitary grain of sandAnd I will raise my handAnd swear on sacred writingMy alliegience to my countryAnd my god, whichever one you wantI will retract what I have saidAnd I'll undo what I have done And our hearts would beat In anti-solidarityBetween tradition, coincidenceAnd geographyI've got half a mind to sleep till threeBut fitfullyThe blood of my ancestorsSurvives in meThat's a hell of a responsibilityAnd our eyes would meetThen avert themselves immediatelyBetween embarrassment, reluctance, and psychaitryI've got half a mind to sleep till threeBut fitfullyThe blood of my ancestorsSurvives in meThat's a hell of a responsibility
From Letras Mania